


Disc Raised

by fringeperson



Series: Disc Raised [1]
Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Harry gets Adopted, Old Fic, Pre-Hogwarts, but certain people survived its going and live in Harry's world now, the Disc is Gone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:40:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27534640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fringeperson/pseuds/fringeperson
Summary: Harry gets taken in by his teacher and raised under the guidance of some of the more interesting characters of the Disc. Story stops before the sorting~Originally posted in '11
Relationships: Lobsang Ludd/Susan Sto Helit
Series: Disc Raised [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2013043
Comments: 1
Kudos: 36





	Disc Raised

Susan set the children to their task, then went to go and speak to the guardian of one of her current pupils. Normally, she wouldn't leave her class unsupervised like this if she could help it, and would in fact leave conversations with parents and guardians until parent-teacher night. This was slightly more urgent.

"Petunia Dursley?" Susan enquired when the door opened before her.

"Yes," the woman answered. "Can I help you?"

"I am Miss Susan Sto Helit, I teach at the school that your son and nephew attend. May I come in? I have something rather concerning which I need to speak to you about."

"Is my Dudders alright?" Petunia asked, worry written all over her features as she stepped aside for Susan to enter.

"I'm afraid that his knuckles may be a little bruised from punching another of my students, but I am sure that Dudley shall recover brilliantly," Susan answered, perfectly straight. "The little boy he hit will have a black eye for a while longer, however."

Petunia paled. "My darling Dudley would _never_ do such a thing!" she defended.

Susan remained calm. "Regardless of your beliefs to the contrary, Mrs Dursley, your son is a rather violent bully, particularly for such a young age. The boy he was picking on would likely have a broken nose as well as a black eye if your _nephew_ had not stepped in, quite literally, and distracted Dudley into chasing him all over the play ground."

"That little freak," Petunia hissed. "He's the reason my Dudley is like this."

Susan delicately rose a fine black eyebrow. She had not been at all pleased that the Rat and Quoth had shown up at her breakfast table that morning, uninvited and unannounced, and then not even said anything. Normally when they did that it was a 'warning' or a bid to get her involved in a way that her grandfather couldn't because he wasn't actually human, but it had seemed like a purely social call. She'd remembered a little bit of the future while she was walking to the school where she taught, which honestly was a little disorienting, and now it all came down to _this_. _This_ was why. Dammit.

"Mrs Dursley, am I to understand that your nephew causes trouble at home?" Susan asked.

Petunia frowned. "He causes all sorts of troubles," she answered.

"I would be willing to adopt him if you like," Susan offered. "I and my husband have been having some trouble with having children, and I am sure that between two teachers the child would not be as much trouble for us. This will remove the discordant element from your home and my husband will have a son to garden with."

Petunia's eyes narrowed. "Why would you do that?" she asked, suspiciously.

"I know it is highly irregular, Mrs Dursley, but it seems that whatever disciplinary methods you use on your nephew so that he is not an influence on your son have not worked. Separating them is a sensible option. I am simply offering," Susan said. She knew perfectly well what was _really_ going on in this house, but she also knew the way that the world worked. She'd been around for long enough to know _that_ at least, even if she was no longer on the Disc, and some of those 'rules' had been changed slightly.

Petunia nodded slowly. "Alright," she said at last. "My sister left a trunk with me a month before she died. I haven't opened it. Would you like it for the boy? I haven't given it to him in case there was something dangerous in there, or something that I don't want my Dudley seeing."

Susan nodded. "That would be appreciated, thank you."

~oOo~

Susan walked back into her class room not ten minutes after she had left it, the papers for Harry Potter to be given over to the guardianship of herself and her husband all neatly folded up in an envelope in her pocket, and the trunk that Petunia had given her in the trunk of her well-kept old Beetle.

Her first duty was to separate Dudley Dursley and Piers Polkiss from Robert Farrell – as well as each other – and to give Jane O'Neil the task of handing around the math work sheets. It was only the start of the year, so they were doing a quick review of the multiplication tables before they would move onto long division and then algebra. Then it was a history lesson – she took them to visit the trenches of Gallipoli – and then home time.

"Mr Potter, you will stay behind," Susan instructed.

"Yes Miss Susan," the boy answered meekly, sitting back down in his chair.

When the room was emptied of all but them, Susan rose from her chair and moved to sit across from her new ward. She removed the papers from her pocket and set them on the desk between the two of them.

"Do you know what these are Mr Potter?" she asked quietly.

Harry picked up the papers and read through them, his bright green eyes widening behind his glasses. "They're papers that mean I live with you now," he answered in an awed and wondering whisper.

Susan nodded. "Then I do not have to explain to you why you will be coming home with me today, rather than returning to your aunt's residence. I have to clean up the class room and then I have a staff meeting, after which we will go home. You may play in the school yard or read in the library until that time," she instructed.

Harry nodded and scrambled off, a slightly dopey smile on his face. He didn't have to go back to the Dursleys! He couldn't help but wonder what living with Miss Susan would be like.

~oOo~

"Lobsang!" Susan called as she opened the door to their house, ushering Harry in ahead of her. "I have a surprise for you!"

Laughter came from the first room on the left of the hall. "Susan, my love, I am surprised that you _say_ such a thing!"

Susan, with Harry following close behind, entered the kitchen. There sat her husband, coffee by his elbow and high school essays in two neat piles just beyond the one that he was marking. At that moment, however, he was looking up at Susan and smiling.

"Lobsang, this is Harry. Harry, this is my husband Lobsang."

"Pleased to meet you Sir," Harry said.

Lobsang re-directed his smile from his wife to the boy. "And you too young man," he answered, holding out his hand for Harry to shake – which he did, tentatively.

Susan smiled. "I visited his aunt today and filed some papers. You're a father now Lobsang."

Lobsang's eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. In all the ageless centuries that they had been married, he had thought they had run out of surprises for each other, especially when on a (relatively) recent trip to the doctors they found that Susan couldn't have children the normal way. He was glad to be proven wrong, and happily scooped Harry up into his arms for a hug, also drawing Susan in to share the moment.

"Um, what's that?" Harry asked, looking up from his first ever hug to see the Death of Rats sitting on the kitchen counter.

Lobsang and Susan looked up, following Harry's line of sight. Susan sighed in frustration, causing Lobsang to chuckle at her before setting Harry down on the floor again.

"That's a friend of ours," Lobsang said.

"Death of Rats, _what_ are you eating?" Susan demanded suspiciously.

The skeletal rodent removed the nut from its mouth delicately, held it up, then shoved it back in quickly.

Susan sighed again. "Fine. Just pass on to Grandfather that we have a new member of the family will you?"

The Death of Rats nodded and scurried off.

"Now, let's pick out your room Harry. We have two bedrooms that aren't being used right now..."

~oOo~

Over the years, Harry learned about all the things in the Sto Helit household that had been saved from the Disc when it collapsed in on itself. Lobsang even taught him the entire history of the Disc one day, while Susan was marking homework. He learned about Discworld magic from Quoth and Albert. He learned about himself, and about his parents and the war that they had been involved in from the books in Death's library, even learned about the prophecy and that Tom Riddle wasn't dead yet – learned that Death wasn't too pleased about it too. Susan taught him about seeing the things that were _really_ there, and how most of them could be dealt with. The poker was a favourite weapon within the house, but for outside, it was sometimes best to be equipped with something pointier. Of course, she taught him more than _just_ that.

"I don't understand why I have to learn upper echelon etiquette," Harry said as he walked around the room with a small stack of books on his head.

"Would I teach you something that you would not use later in life?" Susan asked.

"Yes," Harry answered firmly.

Susan chuckled, amused. "Alright, I might," she admitted. "But not this."

"Lobsang said you were a duchess back on the Disc," Harry said. "The Duchess of Sto Helit, which is why he took your name when you got married, because even though he was Time, he still only had the name of a guild foundling."

Susan nodded. "I was one of the nobility of the Disc _not_ living in Ankh-Morpork, though I did visit it often," she said.

"I wish I could have seen it," Harry said wistfully. "The Disc I mean, not necessarily Ankh-Morpork," he corrected himself.

"Well, that's neither here nor there, because the Disc is gone. I am no longer a duchess, but _you_ , Harry Potter, are a Lord," Susan said primly.

Harry stumbled. "What?" he yelped.

Susan gave him her Look until he stopped gaping at her. "One of the peerage, nobility, ruling class. In the local magical community they call it being the 'Head of an Ancient and Noble House'. You happen to be the last of the Potter line. Very ancient."

Harry snorted. "Yes, because people have always needed something to eat out of and clay was plentiful waaaaaay back," he commented. "I'm going to have to learn politicking, aren't I?" he asked, suddenly depressed. It had been bad enough when it had just been manners and comportment. Politicking was a level of Hell, he was sure.

"Yes."

"Damn."

~oOo~

"My letter came," Harry observed as he brought the mail to the breakfast table.

"I'll take you shopping after breakfast," Susan promised.

"Think you could take the Luggage?" Lobsang suggested. "The poor thing has been depressed since Rincewind died last year, with no master to follow any more."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. He'd really liked Rincewind. The old wizard had lots and _lots_ of stories to tell, and the Luggage was fantastic. He'd spent a lot of time comforting the sentient trunk of sapient pearwood when Rincewind had finally passed on. He'd even gotten it a new lid piercing to help cheer it up.

Half an hour later, Susan and Harry were watching as people walked past the Leaky Cauldron without seeing it.

"Lazy eyes?" Harry asked. It was a concept that Susan had taught to him three years ago. Everybody had two types of eyes, the lazy eye, which didn't bother to see things that couldn't be there, and the sharp eye, which saw what was _really_ there, whether the viewer wanted to believe it or not.

Susan sighed and shook her head sadly. "Only in part I'm afraid," she said. "There's a fair bit of magic hiding the door as well, so that people who aren't _meant_ to see it, _don't_."

Harry nodded his understanding, and after a few more minutes of people-watching (a good sociological skill), Susan handed Harry a cap to hide what was left of his 'famous' scar – Death had removed the soul fragment ages ago – and the pair of them entered the rather dim looking pub.

The two of them walked straight through, not stopping to speak to any of the patrons or, as the barkeeper had thought, to ask him to open the way into Diagon Alley – they looked like muggles after all, they couldn't possibly get through on their own – but when he followed them out to tap the bricks for them, he was surprised to see that they just walked through the wall, not bothering to open it at all!

"Well, I never," he commented to himself, scratching his head as he went back inside.

"First stop?" Susan asked Harry in her 'quizzing students' voice.

"The bank," Harry answered promptly. "It's no good going to shops with no money, and the accounts and properties of the Potter family should be looked at as first priority since they've probably been neglected since my parents died. I'm just beginning my education in this world in September, it isn't urgent yet."

"Correct."

That settled, the white-haired woman and the black-haired boy walked down the crooked street to the bank, where they waited in line until a teller was available.

It took a little while before the cry of "Next!" announced that it was their turn to speak with a goblin.

"I am Susan Sto Helit, this is my ward, Harry Potter. We wish to speak to his account manager, if he has one," Susan said in a no-nonsense voice. Not 'The Voice', but polite on the edge of abrupt. It was the way goblins preferred things. Their time was valuable. Any lolly-gagging about was insulting to them.

"Throatripper," the goblin answered. "First hall on the left, third door on the right," the goblin pressed a button on his desk. "He is now expecting you."

Susan nodded sharply. "Thank you," she said politely, turning and ushering Harry ahead of her.

It was lunch time when they had finally concluded their business with Throatripper, and the goblin was pleased to have met two people who understood the business of properly handling an estate. The wizarding population as a whole generally didn't.

Lunch was taken in a solicitor's office. Throatripper had made the appointment for them shortly into their interview, when Susan and Harry had learned how many different people were selling things with his name or supposed endorsement on them. Harry's second act upon entering wizarding Britain was going to be to sue the robes off of everybody, and if 'wizarding law' didn't care about his rights, then he'd take them all to Her Majesty's court and remind each and every one of them that the United Kingdom had a set of rules that applied to everybody who lived on her shores. No exceptions.

Lunch with Mr Marchbanks, the solicitor, went until four o'clock, high tea. By then a long list had been compiled and a few basic statements had been provided so that Marchbanks could get on with his new work load. They wanted at least one law suit settled by Christmas and one by summer holiday beginnings every year, as a good rate of getting things done and out of the way, but they understood that it would still take a while.

The Luggage was then loaded with books from three different bookshops, the book list completely ignored except as a guideline for the subjects that Harry would be studying at Hogwarts. It was an expensive little foray into the world of text books, even when the books were bought second hand, with other people's notes in them and damage to covers and stains on pages. After that was a further investigation of Knockturn Alley (their last book shop had been just one door in from the corner where the two streets joined), where a full and comprehensive potions _lab_ – not just kit – was purchased and again, stored in the Luggage, as well as several ready-made potions that worked as standard cures for most ailments.

Then it was just robes before everything else could be purchased in 'muggle' London, or even back in Surrey. Susan hadn't been very impressed with the 'latest' telescopes in the shop.

"Lobsang would be able to tell you what year they stopped using this make on the _Disc_ ," the school teacher grumbled. "People should not still be using them _here_."

Harry just nodded and, skipping getting wand or pet completely, they returned home.

"No wand?" Harry asked as they sorted the bag of stationary into the Luggage – beside the scales, new telescope and the slightly extravagant first aid kit.

Susan raised an eyebrow. "You are just noticing now?" she asked. "When we are two blocks from the house?"

Harry shook his head. "Of course not. I just figured that between you knowing that it was on the list and then not getting one in the Alleys, you must have something else in mind. I'm asking what that something is," the eleven-year-old boy answered.

Susan smiled her approval. "Shops have standardised items for sale. This is fine when you want to purchase a standardised item. No wand, wizard's staff, or likewise, should be standardised. It will weaken the wielder. Even wizards on the Disc who inherited a staff eventually made their own."

Harry nodded his understanding. "So I'll be making my own," he guessed.

Susan smirked a little with pride at the way she had raised the boy. "You will require a magically significant wood to carve. A core of some kind that can act as an amplifier would probably be a good idea as well," she advised.

"I wonder if Quoth would let me use one of his feathers," Harry mused to himself.

"Doubtful. He'll be flattered I'm sure, but no bird likes to be plucked."

~oOo~

Quoth was flattered, though he did his best to not let on. He was also refusing to donate any of his feathers. This helped in his goal to not let on that he was flattered that he was Harry's first pick for a 'magic amplifier'.

In the end, Harry made his wand out of a length of hazel wood he'd gotten for two pounds from the nearest carpenter's shop, and was allowed to use one of Death's older, less sharp, blades for the 'core'. In the end it was long enough to be used for a walking stick when he grew up, and Harry was quite pleased that, with the way he'd made it, he could take the blade out and slice people up with it if he needed to as well.

"Very proper," Albert had decided when he'd seen Harry standing there with his three-foot-six 'wand'. "The clothes aren't regular wizard, but you're just a student yet, so that's fine." If he'd known that Death had let the boy use a reaping blade in making the thing, Albert would probably have given himself a heart attack, occupant of time-static parasite dimension or not.

Susan, Lobsang, Quoth and Death of Rats all came to see Harry off at the station on the first of September.

Quoth and Death of Rats even promised to visit him while he was at school, to keep him company and remind him to keep up his lessons – the ones that Susan and Lobsang had set for him, so that he could take his O and A levels at the right times, as well as the tests that the wizards would give him.

"And you have your _extra_ books?" Susan asked quietly.

The books that Death had gifted to him last birthday. The books of some of the most interesting lives on the Disc. Of course, they had their boring moments. Every life did. There was a lot that he could learn from those life stories though.

"Esme Weatherwax, Lily Weastherwax, Samuel Vimes the First, Carrot Ironfounderson, Leonard of Quirm, Patrician Vetinari, Cohen the Barbarian, Ponder Stibbons, Munstrum Ridcully, and Lu Tse the Sweeper," Harry recited. "Yup, got them all! And the Luggage will make sure no one else can get to them. Won't you?" Harry said, smiling fondly at his many-legged trunk that was standing beside him.

The sapient pearwood grinned.

"Alright then. You'd best get on board now, and we'll see you...?" Lobsang said, drifting off.

"Summer for sure, maybe Christmas. Depending on how many friends I make and if they're staying or going," Harry answered. "I'll write to let you know."

~oOo~

"Blimey... where'd you get a trunk like _that_?"

Harry looked up from the potions text that he was studying. "I inherited him," Harry answered the boy, probably his own age, who was staring at the Luggage with wide eyes. "Would you like to come in? There's room enough for you and your trunk as well."

"Er, thanks," the boy said, dragging his own large trunk into the stall and sitting down once he'd stowed it in the over-head luggage compartment. "I'm Neville Longbottom."

Harry brightened. "Really?" he asked, eager and excited. "Your mum's my godmother. I'm sorry about what happened by the way," he added, more solemnly.

Neville stared, but nodded. "Then you're..."

Harry winced. "Yeah, 'fraid so. Nice to meet you Neville."

Neville smiled, weakly, but it was there all the same. "It's nice to finally meet you too Harry."


End file.
